


at your discretion

by WhyWouldIEver



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Cozy Bath Fun, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Banter, Nebulous Timelines and/or Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyWouldIEver/pseuds/WhyWouldIEver
Summary: All Arthur wants is a bed for the evening and a hot bath.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	at your discretion

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the worst case of writer's block since Christmas so this is a bit of light-hearted easy reading as a way to try and break through it. A little bit of writing practice, a little bit of telling myself I wouldn't fret and worry over it and then doing both anyway, but here it is! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> The timeline here is intentionally nebulous (for my sake lmao) so feel free to place it where and when you want. But they're still outlaws!

Arthur grimaces as he peels off his shirt, the fabric covered in a filthy mix of dried mud and blood that sticks to his skin. He hurries out of his pants that haven’t fared much better and tosses the clothing aside on the chair near the door to deal with later. He walks on bare feet to the edge of the steaming bathtub, leaning down with a hand on the bath’s rim for balance as he tests the temperature. 

His thighs burn when he stands back up, sore from riding too long. Hell, even the muscles in his ass hurt, twinging hard as he sits down in the steaming bathwater. He sighs after he settles in and tilts his head back to rest, finally relaxing for the first time in days. 

Things had got messy on a job he was runnin’ with Marston in a city too big for anybody’s comfort if they had an ounce of sanity in ‘em. One would think that a city would provide better distraction, but all it did was increase the chances of catching the attention of the law. They was planning on robbing a few folks with homes big enough to get lost in while they were away at a party for some holiday or another. But they must’ve raised suspicions at some point, city folk always eager to call the cops on anyone that don’t fit in, and the two of ‘em hightailed it out of there with barely a scrap of loot for their trouble when they heard the sound of hooves on cobblestone.

Naturally, as their lives go these days, they got spotted by a young deputy with his sights set on an opportunity for a bit of career advancement. Little bastard could really yell, and soon enough there was the sound of shouting coming in from all directions. John shot the deputy in the knee and Arthur followed him outta the city on horseback, riding hard with a dozen or so lawmen on their asses. 

It was the world’s dumbest game of cat and mouse for the next few days. They’d think they finally escaped only to hear voices too close nearby so they’d set off all over again. It kept going like that until they stopped alongside a river for a while to let their horses rest, both long past exhausted and in desperate need of water. 

Arthur had been feeding Old Boy some hay while John splashed water on his face at the river’s edge when a lawman breached the treeline further up the shore and all hell broke loose again. John had yanked Arthur behind a boulder and their horses fled in a panic to get away from the gunfire. After they’d downed every last one of them and looted their bodies, they saddled up again and rode hard until they finally got across state lines and lost their tail. 

They kept riding into the night just to be safe and only stopped when it got so dark they didn’t wanna risk breaking their necks over unseen fallen trees or boulders. They was all in desperate need of a few hours rest, so he and John switched off on guard duty while the other slept. At dawn, they set off once again.

It was John who’d seen this little nothing of a town off in the distance. It ain’t got more to it than a two-table saloon that doubles as an inn, but it was a welcome enough sight for Arthur considering all he wanted was a bed for the evening and a hot bath to wash off all the grime.

As soon as he’d dumped his satchel on the bedside table, he’d gone back downstairs and bought a bath, fully intent on staying submerged in water until it’s long gone cold and really get his money’s worth.

He opens his eyes again after a while to scratch an itch underneath his knee and stares into the fireplace, his eyes unfocused and completely lost in thoughts of absolutely nothing at all. After a while, he slips down deep into the bath, enveloped completely but for his knees that poke out of the water. He holds his breath for a few moments then slowly lets go through pursed lips, the air bubbles floating up around his face and to the surface.

There’s a dull _thudthudthud_ and Arthur lifts his head just as the door to the bath opens and John slips inside the room. 

“The hell are you doing?” He sweeps back the wet hair sticking to his forehead and glares at John for wrecking his solitude.

“I need a bath.” 

Arthur stares in disbelief when John drops his suspenders and immediately gets to work unbuttoning his shirt. “Well, wait your goddamn turn, Marston.”

John rolls his eyes like he’s got any right to act like the wronged party. “No,” he declares and drops his shirt on top of Arthur’s pile of clothes. He hangs his gun belt on the back of the chair then steps out of his jeans and makes quick work of his union suit. “I know how long you take. I ain’t waiting so I get stuck with a cold bath. Now gimme some room.”

He steps a foot into the water and sits down between Arthur’s feet, his back to the end of the bathtub, and stares defiantly at Arthur as if to say, _Well, I’m here now. Are you really gonna kick me out?_

Arthur has half a mind to do it, but he doesn’t wanna get out of the water himself to throw John outta the room. He leans his head back against the tub and shuts his eyes again. “Fine.” He adjusts his legs so his knees hook over John’s, his calves brushing against John’s thighs and his feet squished against the tub alongside John’s hips.

He tries to fall back into the relaxed state John had interrupted but every time he nearly slips under John shifts around or sighs uncomfortably. “Quit fidgeting,” he mutters and presses the bottom of his foot into John’s hip to hold him still.

It’s not two minutes later that Arthur gets jabbed in the leg by one of John’s scraggy toenails and he winces as it scrapes along his skin. He opens his eyes and glares hard at John who at least looks back with a sheepish expression on his face. “Christ’s sake, Marston,” Arthur growls and flicks at John’s foot. “Just come here then.”

He thrusts John’s leg away by the ankle and lifts his own knees to bend up more in the water, an open invitation to settle between his spread legs there underneath the bubbles.

There’s a brief flash of triumph on John’s face that Arthur ignores with another roll of his eyes and then John rises to his knees so fast the water almost goes over the edge of the tub when he turns around to settle in against Arthur’s chest. Arthur stretches his legs out again and John takes it as an opportunity to tangle his long legs over and under Arthur’s.

“You greedy bastard,” Arthur mumbles in his ear.

John snorts but doesn’t bother responding, just tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear when a gust of Arthur’s breath makes it tickle along his skin.

 _And why would he bother saying anything at all_ , Arthur muses, _when he got what he wanted in the end_? Anyway, it is kinda nice. The water’s still hot, the fire’s crackling bright and it feels good being pressed skin to skin. He sighs and leans back once more, closes his eyes, and focuses on the steady rise and fall of John’s breathing against his chest.

Arthur dozes off for a while, right on the cliff’s edge of truly falling asleep until he’s pulled awake by the strike of a match. He opens his eyes to see John leaning forward slightly surrounded by a halo of orange. A waft of smoke goes up in front of him and he flicks the flame out and tosses the match aside. Arthur’s hit by the smell of tobacco smoke and a quick craving crawls right under his skin.

“Gimme one,” Arthur murmurs.

John reaches out for the courtesy pack of cigarettes placed on the table next to the tub and shakes another out. He lights it with the tip of his own cigarette and holds it over his shoulder for Arthur to take between his lips. They sit there in a comfortable silence for a while, just smoking and enjoying the peace and quiet that’s all too rare these days.

Arthur eventually pulls the cigarette free from his lips with a contented sigh and holds it dangling from his fingertips with an arm extended over the side of the tub. He wraps his other arm around the front of John’s chest and teases his fingertips along his wet skin, scraping his nails through the hair on his chest. 

He can feel John’s contended hum against his chest and answers by trailing his hand down lower against his abdomen, smiling to himself when the muscles clench up tight. “Whoops, sorry,” he mumbles, smiling his way through an obvious lie when his wrist bumps up against John’s cock where it’s already straining up hard like it’s hungry for Arthur’s touch. 

Arthur chuckles and glides the very tips of his finger up the underside in a whisper of a touch. He snuffs his neglected cigarette out in the ashtray on the bath side table and wraps his hand around John to pull him back tighter against his chest. “You need somethin’, John?” he asks just to needle at him the way he always does, can’t ever resist the opportunity, even when he’s got his hands on him or his lips wrapped around his cock. He’ll pull off just to throw a barbed comment at John so he can see the annoyance or embarrassment flush hot across his face. He always makes it up to him with an orgasm though, so he ain’t ever really heard John complain much about it anyway. It’s just _them_.

Even now, John lets the comment slide by without sayin’ a word. He just sticks his hand underwater and grabs Arthur where he’s still teasing him with barely-there brushes of his fingertips. 

Arthur’s real nice about the whole thing if you ask him, lets John guide him to take a hold of his cock and pump his hand in a few strokes. Only when John lets out one of his hitched breaths when something feels _good_ does Arthur shake free of his grip.

John all but melts back against Arthur after that, overloaded already at the pace Arthur sets. He holds John’s cock just the wrong shade of too tight the way he knows John likes, moving fast enough that the water splashes along his wrist with every stroke of his hand.

“Christ,” John hisses and bites off a groan when Arthur twists his hand _just so_. He exhales a shaky breath and lifts his own forgotten cigarette back to his lips for a deep inhale, holding it in his chest and moaning again when he breathes out a plume of smoke.

“You goddamn glutton,” Arthur huffs a laugh under his breath. He encircles his thumb and forefinger in a tight grip around the head just to be a little mean and smiles into John’s hair at the choked-off gasp that spills out from around John’s cigarette.

John’s hips shift, thrusting involuntarily the way they do when he starts getting close and Arthur runs the pads of his fingers along the slit of John’s sensitive cock just to feel the startled twitch of his hips. Except the move pushes John’s lower back against _his_ neglected cock and he laughs quietly through a needy groan of his own, pressing his face into and gnawing gently at John’s shoulder to keep himself quiet.

“Fuck,” John whispers and starts rocking back against him. 

Arthur stills his hand and lets John fuck his cock through the tight curl of his fingers. With every backward thrust of John’s hips, Arthur shoves himself up into the curve of his lower back. John’s skin rubs against the underside of his cock over and over and Arthur’s desperate enough it doesn’t take long before his eyes start squinting as his orgasm barrels closer. 

He plucks the cigarette free of John’s lips and tosses it aside so he can tip John’s head around and lean in for a kiss. It’s more panting breath than anything, and Arthur teases at John’s lips with the tip of his tongue. 

John hums against Arthur’s cheek, then his cock is jerking in Arthur’s hand, coming hard underneath the surface of the water. John’s hand wraps tight around Arthur’s wrist to hold him in place like Arthur’s got anywhere else he’d rather be and Arthur strokes him through it until his muscles loosen with nothing more to give.

As soon as John sinks against him, all spent and sated, Arthur lets go and shifts to grip his hips instead, yanking John’s lower back against his aching cock, his hips thrusting instinctively. He’s panting through his nose into the curve of John’s neck, his teeth clenched hard as he rides right on the edge.

John lifts his hand and scratches wet fingers through Arthur’s hair, making him shiver, and that’s what sends him plummeting over, coming up the length of John’s back, the mess washing away in the now tepid bathwater. Arthur grits his teeth the whole way through, silent but for his panting breath, and presses his closed lips into the sweat-slick skin of John’s neck.

It’s silent after that apart from Arthur’s breathing. “Hell,” he mumbles, a few minutes after he’s calmed down. John angles his head into a more comfortable position on Arthur’s shoulder like he means to fall asleep for a while and Arthur’s just about to let him until he has a sudden realization. “Damnit, Marston.”

“What?” His shoulders tense up defensively.

“I still needed to wash. How the hell am I supposed to do that in dirty come water?” He shoves John off of him and waves away the mess he can see floating in the water before it can brush up against his skin. 

John just laughs, the asshole, then rises to his feet and drips water all over Arthur. “Guess we’ll just have to take another bath tomorrow then.” He holds his hand out and yanks Arthur to his feet.

“Fine.” Arthur steps out of the bath and grabs the lone towel hanging over the top of the changing screen. “But you’re buying and I’m sneakin’ in.” He dries off, hands the damp towel to John, and steps into his union suit, but only bothers fastening a few of the bottom buttons. 

“Deal.”

As soon as they’re both decent they grab their piles of clothes and Arthur peeks outside the door to make sure the coast is clear so they can sneak across the hallway into their rented room. 

John shuts the door tight as soon as they’re both inside and tosses aside his clothes. “And hey,” he grins and Arthur knows he’s about to say something ridiculous. “Soon as I’m ready again I’ll even let you blow me.” Like he’s cutting _Arthur_ a sweet deal.

Arthur snorts and shoves him back on the bed. “You’re such a goddamn asshole, Marston.” He ain’t saying no though, and they both know it. But he shuts John up when he climbs on the bed and leans in for a kiss. He’ll blow John, but as soon as they’re out in open country, he’s fucking John’s tight little ass too. Might just shove him down in the grass and fuck him right out in the open underneath the blazing sun. Something John would probably like, what with the way he’s spreading his legs to make room for Arthur between, always ready and willing anytime Arthur so much as looks at him nowadays. 

Then they still gotta hunt down a good take to make up for the one they lost, goddamn city folk.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. 😊


End file.
